


History Repeats and Repeats

by Withstarryeyes



Series: Dad!Tony Stark [7]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dad!Tony, Dad!Tony Stark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Iron Man 1, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, collapsed building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 01:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: For the second time a building falls on Peter, but this time Tony is there. It's damp and it's dark and Tony fights the memories that flash in front of him from a similar damp and dark cave years ago to rescue Peter from the rubble and his own panic.(Suggested by AngelofGrace96)





	History Repeats and Repeats

The building wailed, a screeching defiant last howl before it tumbled down, it’s history doing nothing to protect it from the world around it. Bricks don’t beat battles, not when the cement is attacked by C-4, not when the bricks are pummeled by a bomb, not when it has no chance in hell at standing. 

Even if there was a kid inside, even if there was a strained sobbing kid that was trying his best to keep it standing. His arms hurt, his knees wobbled, he grunted like he was being tortured and maybe he was. His shoulder blades were grinding to dust. His muscles liquified. He felt like he was being torn apart and then the beam he was holding, the beam that kept it standing, crumbled as another explosive arrow hit it and the whole building collapsed on the kid. 

It wasn’t the first time it happened. Hell, he’d done it once and he’d lived but he was trying then, trying to live up to his Father’s legacy, trying to stick to the code Uncle Ben gave him trying to become Iron Man and stretch past his glory to burn his own into the stars. He was  _ trying _ . But today? Today had been a beast and Peter didn’t know if he had it in him. 

He didn’t move as the tsunami of debris came down ontop of him. He inhaled dust that stuck to his lungs and he felt the rock slice open his skin, his blood mixing with dirt and forming dark, rusty mud. The sunlight was being blocked out by the world and Peter felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

The wailing stopped and ringing remained in Peter’s ears. Eerie, permeating silence that haunted his mind and hitched his breath. There was a moment when Peter thought he could fight, could lift the bricks off of him, could push his body but he’d been fighting to keep it standing for too damn long and he was exhausted. 

He closed his eyes, oblivious to the whirring of a suit and the smell of ash as Tony fought to get to him.

* * *

 

The rocks are heavy as Tony drags them, sweating and grunting in a long-forgotten feral matter to get to Peter. It’s damp in here and much too dark and Tony works as he mind sabotages his efforts. 

_ Water, dust, Tony draws in a thick breath, coughing against what’s being forced inside of his lungs. He’s questioned again and again, his sass the only thing rising with him from the water, causing him to be dunked.  _

_ He spits, a bright red string of blood falling down his chin and landing over his chest.  _

“Tony?’ A voice breaks through the wreckage, small and alone. 

“Peter? Hang in there, I’m getting the building cleared away,” He soothes, shivers running down his spine. He can hear water, the haunting remnants of a summer too many years past. 

“I-I don’t know if I can, Mr. Stark,” it’s shaky but it’s there and Tony pauses for a moment before noting the ragged breathing of a panic attack. 

“Yes, you can. We’ll take it 30 seconds at a time, okay? Just survive for 30 seconds, then start over,” Tony repeats back the advice he’s received from his new therapist Steve forced him to go to. 

A breath hitches before turning into a coughing fit and the pile of rocks rumbles. 

“Peter, Peter!” Tony yells before he can stop himself. 

“It’s dark,” Peter replies. 

_ It’s dark. Tony can’t see the sun from the tiny cave, cannot fathom how many days he’s been locked in this insufferable prison. His eyes droop, his hand going slack around his screwdriver before the harsh clicks of a foreign language startle him awake.  _

_ The warning comes in English, “We did not tell you to stop,” the tone harsh and cold, Tony looks down to see a weapon in the man’s hands. A noose that’s soaking wet and is used to tie Tony down when he mouths off.  _

“I know kid,” Tony calls when he finds the break in the wave, his own voice shaky. “But I need you to be still.”

There’s a pitiful whimper that comes up and Tony sighs, moving once again to carry the large loads of cement to the side. They fire up Tony’s nerves as they crash and roll, forgotten as he moves onto the next one. 

“Let’s count together,” Tony offers up over the thunderous racket he knows is upsetting the teen. 

“One,” the voice is stronger now, less shaky and Tony breathes out a sigh of relief. 

“Two,” Tony calls and shoves another rock off, three is called in return. 

_ 3, that’s as many minutes Tony has to fly away before his motors fail. Then he’s up against the thick heat, the fatal sun, the desert that is deadly at best and torturous at worst. Yinsen’s voice is still roaring in his ears as he takes a step and takes flight, flying towards the sun.  _

_ For one glorious moment he’s flying, up in the sky and with the stars and there’s hope, bright and warm against Tony’s chest. He closes his eyes and breathes in the air before he feels the drop coming. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive the descent, doesn’t know if he’s a reincarnation of Icarus, but he feels at peace. He falls, the sand hitting his feet and the world whites out.  _

He’s breathing heavy, wheezing as he comes back to himself. The rock pile has grown while he’s been gone and Tony’s pleased to see that his instinct is to help Peter first. 

He can see the soft brown hair peeking through the cracks as Peter cracks out a meek fourteen. They’ve started over again and again. 

He moves a rock, he can see Peter’s face. His eyes are closed and his hands are curled around...something. Tony moves to see it’s a pocket sized replica of the arc reactor. It offers a light blue light against the darkness and Tony smiles, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Just a few more Peter,” Tony whispers, lifting and hauling and roaring because he’s so so close. 

Peter keeps counting like his life depends on it, Tony can see the deep-set exhaustion curved into his features. The way his eyes droop on their own accord, the slight tremors racking his shoulders, the pale tint to his skin. 

“When did you take off the mask?” Tony asks as he offers a hand. The carnage is behind him, a giant looming pile of separation between Peter and him. 

Tony fights back a wave of panic once again, shutting the door labeled  _ ‘Cave’  _ to the euphoria of feeling Peter in his arms. 

“Pretty soon after I regained consciousness, I… it felt like it was suffocating me.” Tony hums lightly and they stand to watch each other. They’re in shadow, features sharp in the harsh contrast. There’s a small spot of light being offered from behind them, where the rocks aren’t blocking anything, where the dampness turns to the city, where the battle has wound down and Steve has noticed his two teammates missing. 

“About the counting,” Peter starts and Tony swoops him into a hug, an excuse forgotten. 

“Safe with me.” Tony says because he’s been there, today and many times before, he’ll never use it for leverage against anyone. 

The thanks goes unsaid as words die on Peter’s lips and he melts into Tony's arms cupping behind the back. They stand there like that, a sun and a moon coming together for a beautiful spring morning where the sun shines and the moon beams on, a faded impression of their relationship, until the team finds them.

_ It’s a mirage, Tony thinks when he falls to his knees and can feel the blessed breeze of helicopter blades. A hallucination, it must be, when Rhodey plops into the sand, eyes shielded against the sun, expression pinched. He’s dying from sunstroke, Rhodey moves over, and Tony stands. Because he’s going to embrace his best friend even if it’s a sick trick sent from the Gods themselves. But it’s not a trick because as Tony buckles from exhaustion, he falls into real, comforting arms, and he hears the hushed welcome back of Rhodey’s tears as they hug. Only breaking apart when Tony falls to the side, dizzy and dehydrated, and Rhodey escorts him on board to ply him with water and fresh clothes.  _

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you liked this one. I wanted to play around with Tony's past and his PTSD, especially given that Peter's had a panic attack before too. Same drill as always, if you enjoyed please leave a comment or a kudos. Suggestions are always welcome for future parts :D


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